


Intruders

by transfixme_quite



Series: Deconstructing The Standard [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixme_quite/pseuds/transfixme_quite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John still aren't used to their defined relationship, and miscommunications occur amidst the annoyance of their mobiles going missing, and the discovery that they've been burgled. Sherlock knows who's behind it, but doesn't know why, and he struggles to make right the wrong he created when he reveals his insecurities and indirectly accuses John of sneaking around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Sherlock runs out of his bedroom into the kitchen and begins opening drawers, frantically searching for something. John is startled by the sudden appearance, considering Sherlock had been locked up in his room all afternoon. John turns round, prepared to ask Sherlock about his urgency, and is silenced by what he sees. Sherlock is in a pair of loose fitting cotton pajama bottoms. And that’s all. John’s jaw drops slightly as he takes in the sight.

“Where is it? Where is my mobile?” Sherlock asks quickly, still sorting through silverware.

“Sorry, what?” John manages to get out.

“My mobile. What have you done with it?”

“What on earth makes you think I’ve done something with your mobile? More your area to nick people’s things.” John says, still staring at his shirtless flatmate.

“John, this is no time. I’m waiting on vital information from Gregson.”

“Well have you checked your coat pockets?”

“Do you think I haven’t searched every last bit of my room?” Sherlock says, and opens the fridge, taking out food and other as yet unidentified items.

John clears his throat. “Yes, right. Um well, when did you last have it?”

“Last night. Gregson phoned me about a triple homicide. He said he’d get back to me as soon as he knew more information. Personal items were taken, nothing of value. They think it’s revenge murder.”

“Why didn’t you go to the scene?”

Sherlock turns and looks at John, slightly disturbed. “You were out. I needed you. Where were you?”

“Sarah needed help at the surgery.” John says.

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock scoffs and turns back to his search, leaving a mess in his trail.

“Did they take pictures of the crime scene?”

“Yes, John, that’s what I’m waiting on, though it would have been much easier to have just been there. Ring me.”

John nods and reaches for his mobile, then realizes it’s not where he thought it was. “Um, Sherlock…”

“It’s gone, isn’t it? They know. They’ve been here. Go check on Mrs. Hudson.”

“How could someone have been here when you were here and you not notice?”

“Because I wasn’t here, John. I went out looking for you.”

“Why didn’t you phone me then?!” John’s voice raises, getting more anxious.

“I did. When did you last have your phone?”

“When Sarah called. I…” John looks around, thinking. “I left it here.”

“Stupid. Stupid.” Sherlock mutters under his breath. “Go check on Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock says again, and John nods, albeit frustrated at Sherlock insulting him.

“Mrs. Hudson?” John calls out as he walks out of the flat.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Mrs. Hudson calls back, and meets John at the stairs.

“Anyone come in last night?” John asks.

“Oh, no. Dearest, you know I wouldn’t let anyone in without you boys being here. You went out, Sherlock after you maybe half an hour later. He came back in about 15 minutes later, then left again. What’s wrong?”

“Our mobiles are missing. Sherlock thinks someone came and took them.”

“I heard yours going off like mad after you left. You do leave that ringer on quite loud.”

“When did you hear it stop?”

“Might have been around 12am, I’m not too sure. I almost went up there myself to set it to silent!” Mrs. Hudson chuckles. John pats her shoulder and smiles.

“Thanks…” He says and goes back up the stairs. “She’s fine, and no one was in here. Didn’t you call me before you left?”

“Yes, John. Your phone rang, and it was here, so I left to look for you. Do I have to explain everything? Why didn’t you leave a note or a text or anything! The doctor calls, and you go running, no questions asked, but I need you and I have no way of contacting you.”

“We could just go see Gregson in person.” John says, ignoring Sherlock’s rant.

“No.” Sherlock grabs his laptop and checks his email. “Nothing.” He says to himself, scrolling past dozens of unopened messages. He begins composing an email, typing speedily. “ _Lost…phone…please…send._ _..pics…via…email…Send_.”

“I could see if we can get a location on our phones.” John offers.

“Mm. Yes. Do that. Good.” Sherlock says, still clearly distracted. John sighs and opens his own laptop, logging in to his mobile account. In a matter of minutes, a location was determined.

“Should we head out there?” John asks.

“Give me the address. We need to send it to Gregson, we’re likely to find the perpetrator with them, or someone involved at least.”

“Why do you think our missing phones have anything to do with this case?” John asks, emailing the tracking information to Gregson and Sherlock.

“Gregson isn’t very careful when it comes to talking about working with me, which is why I don’t often work with him. Clearly someone found out I was on the case, and decided to make this harder on me. Though it makes me wonder what they would have done had you and I been at the crime scene.”

“We should go.”

“No, let the police do their job. They can’t possibly fail at picking up phones.”

“They aren’t a delivery service, Sherlock.”

“Aren’t they?” Sherlock responds sarcastically. He sighs heavily and looks at John, irritated.

“Why didn’t you just come to the surgery? Where else could I have gone?”

“I don’t know, you could have been anywhere. I haven’t heard you mention Sarah in months, I didn’t think about her.”

“Well where did you go?”

“Does it matter?”

“A bit.”

“Why?”

“Well for one, I’ll know where your mind was at if I know where you went.”

Sherlock laughed. “I doubt it.”

“Try me.”

“I called Jeanette. I went to the pubs you frequent. I called Stamford and Molly. I even rang your sister.”

“Sherlock…”

“You could have left a note.”

“You could trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“You. Last night. Running around making sure I’m not chatting up women. That’s what you were doing isn’t it?”

Sherlock stayed quiet. John shook his head.

“I don’t know how we’re going to keep this up. This is ridiculous. I have had less drama dating women. That’s saying a lot.”

“Gregson responded. They’re on their way. It was a good thing this time our space was invaded. Idiot criminals. Led us right to them, and I didn’t even have to leave the flat.” Sherlock smiled to himself.

“Focus!” John shouts. “What is all this for, then?”

“I just…want you here.” Sherlock says in a whisper.

“I’m here.”

“You left.”

“To work. It’s not any different than when you take off without me to ‘think’. At least I didn’t leave you in the middle of London alone to catch a cab home like you do to me, constantly. In fact, it’s kinder, because you were still home!”

“You’re right.” Sherlock snips.

“I’m right. About?” John says after a moment.

“This isn’t working.”

“Sher- no. No I didn’t say that!”

“You implied it.”

“I didn’t! Wait… Are you messing with me again?”

“Quite the contrary, John. I’m ending what has turned into something uncomfortable and sets us both on edge.”

“Sherlock, you know damn well you’d have gone after me, relationship or not.”

“So you do want this to continue.” Sherlock states. John stares without response, going over in his head the last bit of the conversation.

“Did you come back last night to get your phone?” John asks. Sherlock furrows his brow at John.

“After I called everyone I called, I left to look for you. I didn’t come back for hours.”

“Mrs. Hudson said you came back 15 minutes after you left.” John says. Sherlock was out of his seat before John finished his sentence.

“That’s when they came. Why didn’t I notice?!” Sherlock growls angrily at himself, dropping to the floor and putting his face to it, surveying the wood with his eyes. “Yes… Footprints. Not too careful, were you, dear intruder?” Sherlock completely forgets the previous subject and jumps to his feet, stalking to his bedroom. John, not knowing what was going on, folds his arms and exhales sharply. Sherlock returns with a measuring tape and a sheet of paper.

“What are you doing?” John asks. Sherlock gets back on the floor, measuring things John can’t see, as he murmurs to himself.

“Around 185 centimeters. Judging by the length of the stride.” Sherlock peels the backside of the paper away, revealing it to be some sort of sticky paper. He gently places it over one of the footprints, and John kneels down closer to see what Sherlock is doing. John watches as Sherlock’s long fingers smooth over the paper, and Sherlock breathes out. He glances at John, then peels back the paper, the imprint of the footprint revealing itself on the other side. Sherlock crawls over to the desk, paper in hand, and grabs at his magnifying glass, examining the paper.  “Mm. Poste brand shoes. New. There’s no wear on the sole.” Sherlock stands up slowly, still holding both items.

“Sherlock?” John prods.

“She said I came back 15 minutes after I left.” Sherlock says, staring off into nothing. “He’s about my height, wearing shoes similar to my own. Whoever came in, she thought it was me. Mrs. Hudson is a smart woman-“

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson calls from the hall, interrupting Sherlock’s train of thought. “The Yard is calling for you!”

Sherlock runs past John without another word, leaving him standing there dumbfounded. After a few moments he comes back up the stairs slowly, his eyes lock on John.

“An impersonator?” John asks. Sherlock nods.

“It would seem so. Also not involved with the triple homicide. That was Gregson, lucky he has Mrs. Hudson’s number. He said the man was in a warehouse, begging not to be arrested. Claiming it wasn’t his idea. He was dressed like me.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” Sherlock sits in his chair and pulls his knees to his chest. “I don’t know.” He says again after a moment. “A hired hand, obviously. But why? I know better than to keep anything of importance on my mobile. I hope you do too.” Sherlock squints at John suspiciously.

“I’d have to receive important information first in order to get rid of it.” John laughs and sits across from Sherlock. John’s mind drifts back to the fact that Sherlock is shirtless. His eyes follow along the curve of Sherlock’s neck, to his shoulder, and down his impossibly muscular arm, back up again to his fingers which are now pressed against his lips. John licks his own lips, and accidentally makes eye contact with Sherlock, who had been watching John the whole time.

“I’m not trying to keep a leash on you.” Sherlock says, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” John quips, trying to will his face from turning red, unsuccessfully.

“We work together. I very well would have tried to find you if we weren’t in this relationship. This isn’t about that. When I leave you places, it’s because I need to think. I don’t mean to be offensive, I just need quiet. And if you do need me, I have my mobile on me. You couldn’t have told me you were leaving?”

“I wasn’t expecting a case to come round.”

“There’s no set schedule for these things, John.”

“No…”

Sherlock lengthens his legs, stretching them a bit, then stands and walks over to John. “I need you.” He says, and John’s face softens up a bit. “No no, don’t get sentimental on me. You’re my partner. You see things I don’t see, say things I wouldn’t say. I needed a partner before I met you, but I got by. Now that you’re here, my abilities have expanded greatly. I get things done faster… We solve cases. We bring them to an end, you and I. I need you.”

“Codependency.” John replies. Sherlock snarls into a laugh. Cautiously and slowly, he crawls into John’s seat with him. John swallows hard, then, for the first time, touches Sherlock’s bare skin. In what seems like a snap, the two begin grabbing at each other and kissing in a sloppy rush. Sherlock reaches up under John’s shirt, teasing at his side with his fingers.

“Sherlock, I got- WHOA.” A voice interrupts them. Sherlock and John look up to find Gregson standing in their living room. “You guys want to close the door maybe next time?” He says, waving a phone at them. Sherlock walks over and grabs it.

“John. Scotland Yard delivers.” Sherlock tosses John’s phone at him, and John catches it easily, his face now red as he fidgets in his chair. “And mine?” Sherlock holds out his hand expectantly.

“Yeah er,” Gregson clears his throat and scratches his head. “Guy didn’t actually have it. He’s being taken to the station for questioning now, obviously. Do you want to come down yourself? Or…”

“Did he say what he’d done with it?”

“No, no of course not, he kept saying he never had it, he only took the one.”

Sherlock and John look at each other quizzically, and John shrugs.

“Who hired him?”

“Said his family was in danger if he said anything.”

“Thank you, Gregson, I’ll be down at the station soon.” Sherlock says and walks to his bedroom. John clears his throat in the awkward silence and smiles at Gregson, who is shifting his weight and looking around everywhere but at John.

“Door. Keep it closed if you’re gonna be …doing that.” Gregson says with a nod, then walks out of the flat.  Sherlock comes back out fully dressed and throws John’s coat at him.

“Well, that’s going to be all over the Yard faster than we can blink.” John says, standing uncomfortably.

“What is?” Sherlock squints as he turns to look at John. John laughs and gestures at nothing.

“You. And me. You know.” He gestures to the chair, and Sherlock stands straighter, tilting his chin up in unamused realization, sliding his coat on. He turns his head slightly, keeping his eyes locked on John.

“Come on. We’ve a man to question. I’m going to need a new phone. Do you still have my card?”

“Uh, yeah, that I do have.” John digs in his pocket for his wallet and reveals the debit card. Sherlock nods and wraps his scarf around his neck, then runs down the stairs two at a time. John follows as quickly as he can, being sure to lock the door behind him. “Mrs. Hudson, don’t let anyone in unless you know it’s us, and see us with your actual eyes!”

“Alright dear!” She calls back, and John runs out of the building just in time to see Sherlock hailing a cab.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts, but they won't go away. Luckily, there is a case on hand to distract him, and a thief to question. For now.

John couldn't concentrate on the case. Sitting next to Sherlock in silence in the cab, the comforting sounds of passing vehicles in his ear, allowed his mind to wander around the parts of his brain he didn't really want to explore right now. John stares out the window, a question Mycroft asked him repeating endlessly in his mind.

_"What might we deduce about his heart?"_

John hadn't an answer at the time, and Mycroft seemed not to either. John was second guessing this now, however. Maybe John not knowing the answer stopped the conversation. Maybe Mycroft had been trying to tell John something. Maybe Mycroft ended it because if John hadn't seen it by then...

"You're quiet." Sherlock says.

"Mm."

Sherlock nods and looks out the other window.

"This is about as bad for my thinking as you talking."

"Gee Sherlock, thanks."

"I don't like when you're quiet when I don't ask you to be."

"Talk to the cabbie if you want someone to talk at."

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong, no nothing, why would anything be wrong Sherlock?" John snips sarcastically. Sherlock scrunches his nose disapprovingly.

"Gregson."

"Ah, you've got it now."

"You don't want anyone knowing about us. Even though everyone already knows and no one cares."

"There's a difference between what you perceive and what you know for a fact. What people 'know' is we're always together. What Gregson knows is we were...were..."

"Snogging in the same chair."

"Yeah."

"Why can't you say it? We're not teenagers."

"It's just different."

"Different enough to deny it?"

"I wouldn't do that..."

"Of course not. You're an honourable man."

"Don't get sarcastic with me."

"I absolutely am not. We're here." Sherlock says quickly and jumps out of the cab, leaving John to pay the fare.

John sighs, exasperated, and makes his way into the station. He greets some of the officers on his way in before catching Sherlock's eye, who was speaking with Gregson and Lestrade.

"He won't stop weeping. It's almost sad, but he looks so much like you, it just stops being sad and starts being hilarious!" Lestrade jokes with Sherlock, who returns a strained smile before walking past them into the interrogation room, with Gregson following closely behind. "John!" Lestrade smiles, walks over and throws an arm around John.

"Afternoon, Greg."

"Congratulations on making it official! How long now?" Lestrade asks merrily. John fidgets, looks down and nods.

"Yes well um, official. I suppose it's been a couple months now?"

"And you've kept quiet all this time? Why didn't you tell me? I know why Sherlock didn't, he just didn't think to, he's really quite bad at normal human socializing." Lestrade laughed. John felt a twinge of anger at the unintended slight about Sherlock, but he knew Lestrade meant nothing by it. John was used to hearing insults being thrown at Sherlock, and getting annoyed at them, but somehow, now it felt a bit different. He cleared his throat.

"I suppose it's just something I'm getting used to. I don't... date men." John replies.

"Yes well, we all wind up meeting someone who turns our world upside down eventually. You'll be just fine. Hell, you've made it through this far with him." Lestrade gives a genuine smile and pats John's back. John releases the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, smiles back, and walks toward the interrogation room.

"I know who sent you, you may as well just say it." Sherlock speaks as John enters the room. Gregson is standing off to the side, his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable again. John glances at him, then at Sherlock, then at the odd doppelganger sitting in front of them. The man continued to cry, unashamedly.

"If you know, what is the point? Oh what is the point of anything? I knew I shouldn't have done it, I just needed a mortgage payment, he promised me, he promised..."

"Nothing will happen to you or your family, I will be sure of that." Sherlock reassures the man.

"No, no one can, no one..." he shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. "Do you think he's not watching? That he can't hear? He's everywhere... I have to call my wife, please, please!" The man begins to beg, and Sherlock scoffs.

"You can call your wife on the phone you stole off of me." Sherlock states gruffly.

"I don't have it! I only took the one! I don't even know what he wanted with the one I took, he never replied once I'd gotten it."

Sherlock looks at John, and John shrugs, shaking his head.

"Come on, this guy isn't going to give us anything. We can book him on theft and breaking and entering, at the very least. If you know who's behind this, Sherlock, what's the point in getting him to say it?" Gregson interjects and Sherlock turns to him sharply.

"Confession from the perpetrator means more than whatever knowledge I have. Don't they teach you anything here? I'm done, take him." Sherlock spits out, annoyed, then walks out.

"Uh, thanks, for all your help, Gregson." John says hurriedly. Gregson nods as John follows Sherlock out.

"I need a new phone." Sherlock says, not slowing his pace.

"Moriarty?" John asks, slightly out of breath as he catches up.

"Clearly. Nothing can be done. He may have just done this to annoy me."

"Yeah. So. Your phone, then?"

"No idea."

"Did you actually leave it in the first place?"

"I did."

"Someone else was in the flat then. How is it that Mrs. Hudson didn't notice?"

"No one else was there. That man is not married. He's quite the actor."

"Actor?"

"No ring. No marks of a ring. It's possible he just doesn't wear one, but not very likely. It's also possible Moriarty has eyes and ears everywhere but less likely that in an interrogation room with just you, Gregson and myself in it that it was being monitored in any way, unless the man was wired. Doubtful he was checked for that. Being in jail for a minimal offense like burglary is likely a safer place for him than whatever may have been done to him had he given Moriarty's name. I only hope for his sake that he doesn't run into any of Moriarty's inside men. I don't think he's a professional in this, but he certainly wasn't telling the truth. It's not like Moriarty to ignore someone who's completed a task he gave them. Taking your phone was a decoy. A distraction. I'm positive Moriarty has his hands on mine as we speak." Sherlock stops abruptly and hails a cab. He gives John a thinking glance as he opens the door of the stopped taxi and enters it. John stands and stares for a moment, waiting for the cab to sail away. When it doesn't, he runs his fingers through his hair and follows Sherlock inside.

"So now what?" John asks.

"Nearest Apple store." Sherlock responds, both answering John's question and giving a destination to the cabbie. The cabbie nods and shifts into gear.  They sit in silence for several minutes, Sherlock clearly lost in deep thought. John opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. It occurs to him he may have been allowed on what was one of many of Sherlock's thinking rides. This meant he had to stay as quiet as possible. Sherlock had never let him come along before. His mind begins racing, thinking about how he'd fleetingly complained about Sherlock constantly leaving him behind, and realizes that Sherlock, if even for a second, thought about John before himself for once. John stifles an exhaled breath as the weight of one simple action hits him like a mack truck.

"He knows I'll just purchase a new phone." Sherlock finally speaks, startling John. John looks at Sherlock, but still doesn't respond.  Sherlock looks at John expectantly, and John shakes his head and looks at his hands.

"Moriarty is a bit childish. You're right, he probably is just trying to annoy you."

"Hmm. Yes. Put yourself in his shoes, why would you take someone's phone?"

"You'd know better than I would. You're more on his level, I'd think." John chuckles.

"I'll ignore that jab at my maturity level. Think. Think really hard."

"Contacts? Though, I hardly think he'd have any difficulty finding out contact information for anyone at all. But that's what I'd go for, if I knew there'd be no other valuable information on it."

"It's not about getting the information. It's about finding which information to get. Even with all my efforts, there's still a vulnerability there. Yes, of course. Thank you, John."

"Oh well, I didn't really do much..." John mutters, and Sherlock smiles, placing a hand on John's knee.

"You did very much. Have you checked your mobile yet?"

"Er, no." John digs the phone out of his pocket, seeing he has two voicemails. He holds it up for Sherlock to see as the taxi stops. Sherlock pays this time, and they exit, glancing briefly at the very white Apple store now in front of them. John plays the first message on speaker.

_Hello John, it's Sarah. Thanks again for your help last night. The amount of patients that came in were unbelievable, I'd never have been able to get through all that paperwork in time without your help. Let me make it up to you with dinner sometime soon? Let me know._

John frowns uncomfortably and deletes the message. The next message begins to play immediately, though if they hadn't seen the indicator moving they wouldn't have known. The message was from a private number, and was also completely silent. Sherlock grabs the phone, pressing the speaker to his ear, trying to hear any background noise. There was none. After about 30 seconds of silence, a low rumbling laugh sounded, then the message ended.

"What was that about?" John fidgets, clenching his hand. Sherlock narrows his eyes and pockets John's phone, entering the store. _Old habits die hard_ , John thinks to himself as he grimaces and follows Sherlock inside.


End file.
